


A Bargain Must be Made

by handdrawnisopach



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon What Canon?, Frank Discussions of Clone Life Experiences, Jango Fett is not a nice man, Kamino (Star Wars), Medical Procedures, My name for this is 'the cheesy political thriller' though it's not that thrilling yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handdrawnisopach/pseuds/handdrawnisopach
Summary: Obi-Wan isn't sure why Jango Fett decided to pick a fight with Dooku.  However, if they don't do something about that wound in Fett's side then Obi-Wan is never going to get the chance to ask.  The search for medical assistance takes Obi-Wan and the two Fetts straight back to Kamino and deeper into trouble.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 465





	A Bargain Must be Made

**Author's Note:**

> This started life on the subobi discord but somehow grew plot. Eventually (I hope), it's going to be a Jango/Obi-Wan marriage of convenience AU of a sort. However, I just need to lock this into place before I get the burning urge to keep tinkering. I'm in the middle of moving. I don't have time to tinker. (Also I need the dopamine to get through another twelve hours of throwing crap away or sticking it in boxes.)

Jango breathed out between his teeth as Boba tugged aside one of the sundered plates of durasteel to press a bacta patch over the long burn in Jango's side. "Dad?" he asked shakily.

"It's okay, Boba," Jango promised even as he programmed in the jump that would get them the hell out of this system. "Just put more bacta gel under the patch." He was going to need a clinic. One that wouldn't question how he'd gotten impaled by a lightsaber, but that could wait until his son was safe.

"Dad!" Boba repeated more urgently.

Jango bit back his frustrated shout. He breathed out hard through his nose. "Just do the best you can, ad'ika." Ignoring the black spots rising in the corner of his vision, Jango finished programming in the hand calculated jump that Dooku's droids wouldn't be able to predict as it dead-ended and doubled back. He eased the switch for the Slave I's hyperdrive forward.

In the cockpit windows the stars turned to lines. Jango slumped, finally letting go of the tension that had been all that was holding him upright. "Don't drop out of hyperspace until the jump is finished," he ordered Boba. Reaching up, he saw two bloody gauntlets wavering in front of him as he gently patted his son's dark, curly hair. "It's going to be okay, Boba." Then the black covered Boba's tear-streaked face.

****

Obi-Wan looked down, torn between amusement and pity for the small child with a blaster leveled at his stomach. Fett's son was crying too hard to form coherent words. Slowly, his entire body one aching bruise from the Geonosians’ idea of hospital, Obi-Wan knelt down bracing his bound hands against his knee. "Can you breathe for me, dear one?" he asked, careful to keep his tone from being too solicitous. Fett's son was old enough to take offense.

The boy gulped for air, mirroring Obi-Wan's slow, loud inhalations instinctively. When he spoke again, the thick, wet words were comprehensible. "Can you fix people?"

Obi-Wan blinked. Fett had seemed slightly scorched when he clamped binders around Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles and dragged him out of the caves to his ship. However, Obi-Wan had been too distracted by his own injuries to notice if Fett had been struggling. The boy's blue tunics, however, were streaked with blood and carbon char. "I have some basic medical training. Are you hurt?"

The boy bit his lip, glancing uncertainty over his shoulder. Then he visibly gathered himself up, glaring at Obi-Wan. "If you try anything I'll shoot you in the gut and let you bleed out slow," he threatened.

Inclining his head, Obi-Wan nodded gravely. "Of course." The boy tapped on the keypad lock on the front of the cell, and the door slid open. Obi-Wan shuffled out trying not to trip over the binders on his ankles.

"Dad's in the kitchen," the boy said and his voice was high and reedy from stress. "You walk in front of me and keep it slow."

Obediently, Obi-Wan shuffled forward with the boy walking far enough behind him it would be difficult to grab for the blaster leveled at his kidneys. They made their way through the small craft with the boy providing verbal instructions on which hatches to pass through.

From the cell area, they passed through a small cargo bay and short maintenance corridor before stepping into an entirely different world. Instead of durasteel bulkheads, the walls were painted a warm, cream color. The worn furniture, Corellian style spacer gear, was upholstered in browns, reds, and greens. It was still a ship, but no longer a bounty hunter's sterile place of business. This area at the heart of the ship was a home.

Fett was laying on a blanket on the floor next to a ladder. From the streaks of red on the rungs and floor, the boy had somehow managed to get his father down from the cockpit above into the living area before having to give up. There was an impressive medkit open next to Fett's head. The detritus of packaging for bacta patches, empty tubes of bacta gel, and what looked like clotting agents were scattered around Fett's body.

Metal plates, beskar'gam, had been cut off of their harness and were stacked nearby. Several of the plates had been sheared in half. One had a perfectly circular hole in it. From the telltale beading of the metal on the edges, Obi-Wan knew the damage was from a lightsaber. "What happened?" Obi-Wan demanded.

The boy's face crumpled up before twisting into a sneer. "The dari jeti betrayed us." He sniffed. "Can you help him?"

Obi-Wan eyed the damaged armor. "He needs a doctor, young one."

The boy gave Obi-Wan a scathing look like he was wondering how anyone could be so stupid. "Dad said we had to finish the jump first. To keep anyone from tracking us. I need to stabilize him until he wakes up. He can go to a doctor then."

From the pasty color of Fett's lips, Obi-Wan wasn't sure Fett would be waking up. He wasn't going to say that to the man's son though. "Then I'll need you to unlock the binders on my wrists. I need my hands to examine him."

The boy hesitated then set his jaw. "No. Your binders stay on. I'll help you." There was a holster on his belt for the blaster with a muzzle nearly the length of the boy's thigh. "If you try anything..."

"You'll gutshot me. I know, young one. Undo your father's kute. I need to see what I'm doing," Obi-Wan said painfully lowering himself back to his knees among the empty bacta patch wrappings.

The boy set to work opening his father's flightsuit. The heavy material was sliced in several places to the point Obi-Wan urged the boy to use one of his father's vibroblades to just cut away the ruined fabric. In his panic, the boy had applied the bacta patches without fully pushing his father's armor out of the way. Obi-Wan opened more patches to be put over the injuries as the old ones were peeled off.

Most of the damage seemed superficial. The heavy durasteel plates had done their work protecting the Mandalorian beneath even if they weren't beskar. There was a nasty slash on Fett's side that would need minor surgery, but nothing that explained why he was unconscious and pale enough to pass as a ghost. Then Obi-Wan remembered the circular hole in the armor plate.

"Show me where your father was stabbed," Obi-Wan ordered the boy.

The boy peeled off a bacta patch high on his father's right side. Obi-Wan's stomach sank. He really hoped Fett wasn't as human as he looked. The thin trickle of dark blood from the cauterized hole wasn't promising. "Do you have a med scanner?" Obi-Wan asked, keeping his tone carefully even.

"Yes, but it's..." The boy scowled. "Don't you dare hurt him."

"I won't. I swear on my padawan's head, my own ad, that I will not harm your father while you're going to get that scanner," Obi-Wan promised quickly. "But we need to know what's going on inside him. Go on."

The boy looked back and forth between Obi-Wan and his father several times, obviously torn. Obi-Wan clicked his tongue impatiently like the boy was any other reticent youngling. "Go, go!" The boy nodded and skittered away.

Obi-Wan put his hands on Fett's chest, grimacing at how clammy he was to the touch. He probed carefully, but Fett's lungs seemed unaffected. It was a small mercy but gave them more time. Packing the wounds with bacta might stabilize Fett temporarily, but Fett needed surgery and a high end surgical droid or a doctor to perform it. How soon they needed a doctor was the only thing the scanner could tell Obi-Wan.

The boy darted out of a hatch, a different one from the one he'd left through, with the sleek case of an expensive med scanner clenched tightly in both hands. The handle was too big for him to comfortably grip it one handed. "Dad?" he demanded kneeling at Fett's other side.

"He didn't wake up," Obi-Wan said hoping to at least reassure the boy nothing drastic had happened while he'd been gone. "Let me see the scanner."

The boy passed the unit over, and Obi-Wan fumbled at it with his bound hands. It switched on with a chime no doubt designed to be soothing. Obi-Wan tapped in Fett's vitals before asking the boy, "Is your father baseline human or a hybrid?"

The boy was holding one of Fett's hands in both of his, curled around his father's lower arm. "We're human," he said shakily. "Or human enough. The rest is just junk DNA."

Obi-Wan nodded and accepted the scanner's suggested baseline. He ran the unit over Fett's torso twice before the machine beeped. A holographic display of Fett's upper body, complete with translucent skin and organs, appeared with injuries highlighted in red. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. "Your name is Boba? Right, young one?" The boy, Boba, nodded. "Boba, the good news is your father's stomach and lungs are still working. The bad news is his liver was damaged when he was stabbed by a lightsaber. Normally, there would be time since the wound was cauterized. However, the lightsaber that did this wasn't stable. It didn't completely cauterize the wound. I've seen injuries like this before from damaged powerpacks. It causes micro lacerations and... Well, your father needs surgery as soon as possible. We can pack the wound with bacta to slow down the bleeding, but it's not a long term solution."

Boba sucked in a breath. "But, he said to wait until we finished the jump."

"How long will we be in hyperspace?" Obi-Wan asked, already knowing the answer was 'too long'.

Boba seemed to know as well even if he wasn't ready to admit it. "For the next three days."

Obi-Wan set aside the scanner. If Boba was less prickly he would have offered the boy a pat on the shoulder or a hand to hold. Boba clutched his father's hand closer instead, dark eyes desperate as he stared up at Obi-Wan. "Boba, this is a very serious injury. Your father is a strong warrior, but he's losing too much blood inside his body. He has less than a day."

"You're lying," Boba snapped shrilly. "You're a jetii. Jetiise lie. Buir told me about you. You don't feel anything so you don't care who you hurt to get what you want. And then you lie about it so people won't ask questions!"

Obi-wan reached out his hands to the boy. "Your father still has a chance, Boba. We can drop out of hyperspace and find the nearest clinic. With surgery, he'll most likely survive."

Boba yanked out his blaster, aiming it at Obi-Wan in warning not to touch him. Obi-Wan withdrew his hands. "He's your father, Boba. So this is your decision. I'll help you no matter what you decide. But he will be dead by the time we drop out of hyperspace if we wait three days."

Boba stared at Obi-Wan, the muzzle of his blaster jumping as he shook. Then he reached down and shook Fett's shoulder. "Dad?" he hissed. "Dad, wake up. Buir, I need you." Fett didn't stir.

Obi-Wan folded his hands in his lap waiting for Boba to process. Boba seemed to be a capable, Mandalorian child. Which made him both more resilient, and less, than the Jedi younglings Obi-Wan was familiar with. Without his father present, his near adult confidence was deeply shaken making him seem even younger. The blaster muzzle dropped as Boba curled around his father's arm, pressing his face into Fett's shoulder.

"He's going to be mad at me," Boba choked out to Obi-Wan. "If I don't listen, he'll be... disappointed." The boy sounded like he couldn't imagine anything worse.

"Then we'll explain it to him," Obi-Wan soothed calmly. "Your father is a very experienced warrior. Once he understands the situation, I'm sure he'll approve. After all, I don't imagine your father always listened to his buir either?"

Boba sniffed. "No. He didn't." That seemed to decide the boy. He holstered his blaster. "You said bacta would help?"

"Yes. It'll slow the bleeding," Obi-Wan replied waiting for Boba to decide.

"Pack the wounds with bacta," Boba, wiping his nose and eyes on his sleeve. "I'm going to drop out of hyperspace and call a doctor Dad knows. If he says you're not full of poodoo then we'll take Dad to a clinic."

Giving Boba a half-bow, Obi-Wan reached for the medkit. He knew the boy believed him. If Boba had really thought Obi-Wan was lying about Fett's condition, Obi-Wan would already be dead.

Boba scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit. Obi-Wan thought about reminding him to wipe the blood off his hands, but that nerf had wandered off long ago. They would just have to clean up the ship once Fett was stable.

The ship shuddered as it returned to real space. Obi-Wan's hands remained steady as he put the tip of the bacta foam dispenser into hole in Fett's side. It wouldn't stop the internal bleeding, but it might help put enough pressure on the lacerations to slow it down. The rest of Fett's wounds would need to be debrided and sealed, but bacta patches and gel were good enough.

The fact Fett had so much bacta available was telling. It was still non-Thyferran bacta was relatively new on the open market and bacta prices, regardless of origin, were still exorbitant. Fett had said he'd been well compensated for his part in the clones creation, but Obi-Wan was only now starting to understand how well. Even the best bounty hunter would only be able to afford a few tubes of bacta, maybe a single can of foam and few patches. Fett's whole kit was top of the line bacta supplies with only a few calcifier injections and dermal wraps.

Boba scrambled back to down the ladder with a holocomm clutched in one hand. A tall man in beskar'gam floated above his fist. "Here," Boba said quickly, holding out the holocomm so the man on the other end could see both Fett and Obi-Wan. "Dad won't wake up."

"Who the kriff are you?" the man demanded in an accent that was pure, rural Mandalore.

"Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan said with a slight bow. "I... appear to be Fett's prisoner?"

The man, the Mandalorian, looked unimpressed. "Sure you are. What the kark did you step in this time, Jan'ika?" He didn't look happy when Fett didn't respond. "Boba said you ran a medical scanner on Fett. Upload the results to the comm. We've got a doctor coming."

Obi-Wan held out the scanner so Boba could plug it into the comm. A moment later the man disappeared and a different, slighter one took his place. "Boba, Kal said there was someone with you," the man said much more gently than the first. Despite his armor, the soft rolling vowels reminded Obi-Wan of Alderaan or Chandrila.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said quickly, "Obi-Wan Kenobi. Long story."

The man nodded. "Well you weren't wrong about not having time. Kal's loading up a ship as we speak. I want you to take him to Kamino, Boba. Give Obi-Wan the comm and go program in the route now."

Boba handed Obi-Wan the comm and headed back up the ladder without the fuss Obi-Wan expected. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" Obi-Wan asked, trying not to snap.

"Mij Gilamar. I'm a doctor," the man said coolly. "I know Fett has blood volumizers somewhere. I made custom ones for him several times. Have Boba help you find them, and hook him up to an infuser. If you don't know how, Boba does. Don't worry about drainage for the moment. Just keep a record of the number of units you use and tell the medics once you reach Kamino."

"How do you know about Kamino?" Obi-Wan asked, startled to hear this Mandalorian speak about it so casually.

Gilamar gave Obi-Wan an exasperated look. "I've worked there for the last decade. Now, I'm going to forward Fett's scans to Taun We. She'll have the surgical droids ready to go by the time you arrive. I'm two, maybe three days out depending on how fast Kal's boys can push our ship. We'll meet you there. Don't let anyone, not a kaminoan, not another Mandalorian, not a 'friend of the family' take Boba until we get there."

"And the clones?" Obi-Wan asked because it sounded like trouble.

"The boys won't hurt one of their little brothers. Just make sure they know Boba's only allowed to talk to you and Taun We," Gilimar replied, looking over his shoulder.

"I have to go now..." Gilamar began.

"Wait. I need Boba to take off the binders," Obi-Wan said quickly before the Mandalorian could disappear.

Gilamar grimaced. "Kal, this is your problem," he called. "Bob'ika's got him tied up and is being stubborn about letting him loose."

The first Mandalorian appeared again. "He's a Jedi, Mij!"

"And Boba's nine," Gilamar snapped back. He slipped into accented Mando'a. / "If the Jedi was going to do something, a couple sets of durasteel binders weren't going to stop him."/

The first Mandalorian grunted in acknowledgement. "Fine," he grumbled in Basic. "Kenobi, tell Boba Skirata ordered him to remove your binders. If he tries to argue feel free to cuff the little besom."

"Don't do that," Gilamar recommended with a wince. "He might actually try to cut your hand off. Also, try to get Boba to clean up. He's very mature for his age, but he's just a child and his father is his whole galaxy."

Obi-Wan blinked. "I... Yes. I'll make sure he cleans himself up." Then the comm signal dropped out as the ship jumped back into hyperspace. Boba had forgotten to warn Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan just hoped the Mandalorians he'd been speaking to would understand.

Boba slid down the ladder in a way that made Obi-Wan want to shout at him to watch his fingers. "Dad?" he asked urgently.

"Doctor Gilamar said to give your father blood volumizers," Obi-Wan said quickly. "It will help. Also, Skirata ordered you to remove my binders so I assist you more easily."

Boba scowled. "He doesn't get to tell me what to do anymore."

"He's coming to Kamino," Obi-Wan replied with a raised eyebrow. Boba's scowl deepened but he retrieved a metal orb that, when passed over the cuffs, opened up the binders around Obi-Wan's wrists and ankles.

"The volumizers are in the chiller," Boba explained. "I'll get an infuser set up while you find them."

Obi-Wan and Boba hung the bags of volumizers from the ladder after Boba attached the infuser port to his father's collarbone with a frightening level of professionalism. Then Obi-Wan found himself sitting across from an exhausted, terrified child with nothing left to do but wait. "Boba?" he tried delicately.

Boba, curled around his father's arm again, looked up at him with a glare. "Why don't you clean yourself up a little?" Obi-Wan suggested. "I'll take care of this mess while you do." He gestured at the wreckage of empty plast envelopes and single use coverings around them.

"I need to stay with Dad in case something changes," Boba argued, eyes narrowing. "What if he needs me?"

"If he needs you I'll call for you," Obi-Wan replied firmly. "Would you like me to swear on my padawan?" When that didn't seem to convince Boba, Obi-Wan added, "You have some blood on you, Boba. If your father wakes up and sees you now, he's going to worry about you. But if you take a few moments to get clean, all will be well. I swear on my padawan's head no harm will come to him while you're away. If anything changes, I'll call for you immediately."

Boba reluctantly started to detach himself from his father's arm. "He shouldn't worry about me. I'm not the one who's hurt."

"It's a parent's prerogative I'm afraid," Obi-Wan said with a small, warm smile for the boy. "My padawan is almost grown, and I still worry about him. It just means your father loves you a great deal. Now, why don't you run yourself and those tunics through the sonics? By the time you're done, I'll have your father more comfortable and you can lay down with him."

The gentle chivvying had the desired effect. Reluctantly, Boba vanished back into the sleeping quarters for a sonic shower and a change of clothes leaving Obi-Wan to clean up the medical debris surrounding Fett and make him look less... Well. Less dead for his son.

******

It was a much longer hyperspace jump to Kamino than Obi-Wan remembered. Boba had laid next to his father on fresh linens Obi-Wan had found in one of the cupboards. The boy seemed convinced if he just focused hard enough on Fett his father would wake up. Obi-Wan had left him to it, taking the time to clean Fett's blood off the ladder and out of the cockpit.

Boba landed the ship on what, Obi-Wan was certain, was the same platform Obi-Wan and Fett had fought on. Two clones dressed in gray tunics with a hover-gurney ran through the rain up the ramp when Boba opened the cargo bay doors. They ignored Obi-Wan completely as they loaded Fett onto the hovergurney except to ask him how many units of blood volumizer Fett had been given. Boba's demanding questions, however, were answered briskly.

Then Fett, escorted by the clones who Obi-Wan suspected were medics, was gone leaving Obi-Wan with Boba on a ship silent except for the rain striking the hull. Obi-Wan turned to the boy. "Would you like to go inside?" Obi-Wan wasn't sure what Fett's plans had been or why Fett had captured him then apparently decided to kidnap him. He wasn't even sure if Fett's apartment on Kamino was still Fett's.

Boba reached up and grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist. "We need to find Taun We," he said authoritatively. "Come on!"

Obi-Wan let himself be pulled off the ship (which Boba locked, hunching over the keypad so Obi-Wan couldn't observe), through the rain, and back into the sterile, white and silver hallways which seemed to be the height of kaminoan architectural sensibilities. Despite the lack of signage, Boba moved confidentially through the corridors of Tipoca City dragging Obi-Wan behind him. Obi-Wan noted that the few kaminoan natives seemed to be giving them an especially wide berth.

Boba stopped in front of a door which Obi-Wan couldn't have picked out from a hundred others. He pressed the keypad and a distant chime sounded. A moment later the door slid open to reveal the long, willowy, elegant form of the young female kaminoan who was the prime minister's assistant. Taun We, to Obi-Wan's shock, reached out quickly with a delicate hand and pressed her long fingers to Boba's head. "You're safe," she said in her pronounced, musical tones. "Thank the storms."

"Tyrannus hurt Dad," Boba said. His voice started wavering the way a youngling's sometimes did when they saw their crechemaster after receiving a nasty shock. "And he's a liar. You have to tell Lama Su not to let Tyrannus or Sifo-Dyfus on Tipoca City, Taun We."

Taun We hummed a minor note, gesturing for Obi-Wan to enter what appeared to be her apartment. She kept her hand pressed protectively to the top of Boba's head. "I will tell security not to allow his ship to land. Boba, who saw you come to my apartment?"

"Just some of the lower caste techs. Why?" Boba said curiously. Obi-Wan noted Taun We seemed to take an especially long time securing her door.

Taun We let out a small huff when she finished. "Tyrannus called Lama Su, Boba. He's claiming your father broke their contract. If Lama Su finds out your father is here, he'll have you both arrested."

Boba paled, and Obi-Wan winced. "Apologies, Taun We. But we weren't subtle about our arrival. How have we not already been discovered?"

Taun We blinked her great eyes at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan had the sudden sense that he underestimated this woman. She might not be able to easily tell humans apart, but the almost ditzy way she'd acted in front of her superior made him wonder how real her naivete was.

"The section of Tipoca City which houses Master Fett and his clones uses primarily defective clones for labor, Master Jedi. Most technicians, most kaminoans, find being around humans and human clones uncomfortable." Her head swayed slightly which seemed to be a sign of nerves. "The ship that arrived was carrying an injured clone commander. As I reported to Lama Su. The visitor reports from the clones on duty will confirm this."

Obi-Wan blinked. "I see. And the..."

"Clone cadet who was with him will be assisting you, Master Jedi," Taun We finished for him.

Boba flinched. Taun We made a chiming noise deep in her throat no human could have ever managed. It seemed to soothe the boy. "You will only need to wear a uniform until Instructor Skirata arrives, Boba," Taun We crooned. "He has promised to take care of the situation. Until then, you and the Jedi may remain in the cloning facility. I’ll have the cleaning droids set up one of the officer’s bunkrooms"

Boba relaxed, leaning into her hand. "Thank you, Taun We. How long until Skirata and the others arrive?"

"Seventy-two standard hours." Taun We swayed harder. "Boba, Lama Su received a message from some of the... other instructors. They have been hired to retrieve you and your father. They claim they wish to search your apartment for clues."

"Which ones?" Boba demanded grimly.

Taun We tugged him closer. "Priest and Reau are leading them. Boba, they'll be landing soon. I have told the clones to put them in the hanger bay on the opposite side of the city from your father’s landing pad."

Boba reached out, putting his own hand over Taun We's. "Give me a uniform. I'll figure it out, Taun We. I promise."

"I could help..." she offered but Obi-Wan could feel the doubt radiating from her. While she was more clever than she acted, she was still so fragile compared to a human.

"No." Boba shook his head. "If Lama Su finds out you've been helping, you'll be in trouble too. They might decommission you or worse. Thank you, but you should stay here where it's safe."

Taun We patted Boba's curls. "I will stay, Boba. But you will comm me if I can help."

Boba nodded in agreement. "Stay here, Jedi," he ordered Obi-Wan. "I've got to go change. Then we'll go to my dad."

The uniform Taun We provided Boba was red and blue, similar to the clothes Obi-Wan had first seen Boba wearing. However, there was an orange patch on both shoulders of the shirt Boba wore. "Means I'm a cadet commander," Boba explained as he checked the pleats of his tunic. "It won't stop the bigger boys from giving me lip, but I can order around other cadets."

Obi-Wan nodded and tried not to be sick. The uniform fit Boba perfectly which meant there were whole rooms of boys with the same young face being brainwashed into becoming the perfect soldier. Everything in Obi-Wan, from his gut to places the Force threaded through him, moaned in agony at the thought of more dead children. What had Fett been thinking?

"Who are Priest and Reau?" Obi-Wan asked instead because 'why?' wasn't a fair question to demand of Fett's cloned son.

Boba sneered. "Hu'tuune. Death Watch scum who are too cowardly to actually join up. Dad says they're good technical fighters, just honorless."

"Death Watch?" Obi-Wan resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall. It seemed the Force decided another of his old wounds needed prodding. "I presumed you and your father were members of the diaspora or the Old Clans. Why would you get involved with the Death Watch?"

"You know who the Death Watch are?" Boba asked Obi-Wan in wide-eyed surprise.

Obi-Wan snorted. "They tried to kill me, messily, a time or two when I was younger. Yes. Boba, what house do you belong to?"

"Mereel," Boba said like he'd assumed Obi-Wan had already known.

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his eyes trying to recall a dossier which had long ago been overshadowed by platinum blonde hair and a smile that cut and soothed in equal measure. "I don't know that one," he admitted. "Are they part of the Old Clans?"

"No. Dad says we're the only ones left. The Jedi and the Death Watch killed the rest," Boba said with the air of a student repeating a lesson he didn't fully comprehend.

"Oh kriff me," Obi-Wan muttered, because there was only one instance he knew of where the Jedi Order and the Death Watch had been focused on the same target at the same time. He really hoped Fett had been exaggerating about who was responsible for his clan's downfall.

Boba eyed Obi-Wan uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Boba," Obi-Wan sighed. "Right. So we should go find your father. Then I'll find some way to distract the Death Watch until your father's friends get here."

"Skirata and the others aren't Dad's friends," Boba said, sounding scandalized. "They're just allies."

Obi-Wan added another question to the list he had for Fett before amending, "Fine. I'll distract him until your father's allies arrive, and we can find a way to safely move him." His preference would be to take a stabilized Fett and run. The Death Watch tended towards messy fights. An unpleasant thought occured to Obi-Wan. "Boba, Taun We called the Death Watch the 'other' instructors. Will the clones listen to them?"

"Not unless they have to," Boba replied scornfully. "Dad said if they hurt the clones, the clones could hurt them back. But a lot of the younger clones are scared of them, especially Priest." Seeing Obi-Wan's concern, he added, "Don't worry. Everyone knows the clones are stupid. Priest won't bother them unless he knows they know something."

"... Right." Obi-Wan reached out and straightened Boba's already straight uniform tunic. He breathed slowly taking comfort in the gesture. "Well, I'd prefer to protect the clones if we can. Alright with you?"

Boba nodded with no sign he'd understood the implications of what he'd just said. "Yeah. I don't like it when clones get hurt either, but I have to take care of Dad."

"And we will protect your father." Obi-Wan took Boba's hand only realizing afterwards Boba still had a blaster strapped to his leg. He looked around Taun We's empty apartment. The kaminoan had politely retreated to her private quarters to add more misinformation to the rumors already flying through the local intranet. "First things first. Where would I go if I wanted to send a holocomm to the Core?"

"Why?" Boba asked flatly.

"So I can get more Jedi to help us with the Death Watch," Obi-Wan said giving in and just defaulting to 'murder' as an explanation. It seemed to be a motive Boba was comfortable with.

Boba nodded satisfied with Obi-Wan's reasoning. "There's a comm station in the old trainer's quarters. I think the clones still use it for ordering supplies. I have the codes that let you access the relay stations that transmit to a holonet node."

Of course there was a comm setup capable of reaching the Core in the facility. And of course no one had mentioned it to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan smiled at Boba. "Perfect. Lets take a back way there, shall we? Then we'll go down to the infirmary to guard your father."

Boba's indirect route took him and Obi-Wan through a maintenance hatch, up a series of ladders, through a maze of catwalks, and involved Obi-Wan wiggling through a door more suited for a being Boba's size. They popped out in a food preparation area to the angry beeping of droids. Boba ignored the droids and walked confidently out into the mess hall.

Tables full of heads turned towards them. "Just ignore them," Boba said with the long-suffering air that suggested he was used to it. "They won't say anything." He raised his voice pointedly. There was a chorus of whispers that ran down the benches of identical, staring faces.

Obi-Wan let Boba lead the way through the room. When they were almost at the large double doors to the rest of the facility, three clones, none appearing older than twenty, moved to block their way. Boba glared at them. "Get out of the way," he ordered.

One of the clones, a blond a little younger than the other two, snorted. "We don't have to listen to you when you're dressed like us," he said in a voice that wasn't completely finished settling into its final register. "Right, 'Lucky'?"

"You have to listen to me because I'm showing the Jedi the facility," Boba snapped. "Right, 'trooper'?" He and the blond glared at each other.

"Enough," the clone in front with a wicked looking scar on his temple sighed. "Both of you. Boba, what are you doing here? The Alphas said Prime was done with us. If you snuck off the ship again..." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not letting you get us in trouble because you're bored."

Boba switched his glare to the clone in front and snarled, "Shut up. You can't tell me what to do, Kote."

The clone raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Then he turned Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry, General. I don't know what Boba's told you, but he's not like us. He's Fett's son. If Fett sees you with Boba, he'll be angry with you."

"I am aware," Obi-Wan said quickly before things could devolve into a very sibling-like brawl. "I'm... We're here with Fett's permission," he said quickly trying to put together something that would peacefully resolve the situation. "There's been some internal conflict among the trainers, I believe. I'm attempting to help resolve it."

Kote looked down at Boba. Boba made a face. "Priest and Reau are after Dad. And Dad got really badly hurt by the guy who gave him the contract for you. The Jedi promised to help me protect Dad until Skirata can come for us."

"The General," Kote said pointedly, staring down Boba, "doesn't need to get involved with the trainers, Boba. You know what they're like, especially about Jedi." The last statement was much more gentle, trying to coax Boba away from Obi-Wan.

"Kote," Obi-Wan tried, because the young man seemed to be as stubborn as his progenitor, "the situation has... destabilized rapidly I'll admit. Master Fett is severely injured, and I myself have a history with the Death Watch that makes me a target for many of these other 'trainers' who seem to be in opposition to him. I need to reach the comm room and call the temple to get more Jedi who can assist. Boba is helping me get there without drawing the attention of... Priest and Reau?"

Kote absorbed the information, cocking his head slightly. "Priest is after you as well?" he said and there was something dangerous in his tone.

"If he's Death Watch, quite possibly," Obi-Wan replied cautiously.

Kote smiled. "Right. Ret, Fifty-Four, scout ahead for Boba and the general to make sure their path to the comm room is clear." He raised his voice. "Wolffe, get ahold of Alpha-Seventeen and tell him Priest and Reau are making trouble for the General."

Since the young man seemed to know what he was doing, Obi-Wan added, "Fett is the infirmary. If you could spare someone to watch him..."

"I'll tell the Alphas," one of the clones the same age and with the same chevrons on his tunics as Kote said. "I'm headed to Fett now."

"Get a whiteshell and training blasters for yourself to hold out until they come," Kote ordered. He raised his voice, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, "Priest and his hu'tuune bootlickers are a threat to our Jedi general. That means we're deploying now. Fox, I'm putting you in charge. Find where the hell these bastards are in our city and keep eyes on them. Don't engage until we hear from the Alphas. Bly, get the kih'vode locked down in one of the storm shelters to keep them safe. I'll be acting as comms officer for the general."

There was a rustle of cloth and the echo of many clicking boots as the other boys in the room saluted Kote. "I'm Trainee Commander Cee-Cee Twenty-two twenty-Four, sir," Kote introduced himself to Obi-Wan. "My tag is Kote. I'll assist you however I can, general."

Boba looked relieved. Obi-Wan wanted to scream, because this was not keeping the clones safe. However, that was an argument they could have when not standing before a wall of one-way windows. Frustrated, Obi-Wan forced himself to smile graciously. "It's just Knight Kenobi, Kote. Thank you. I believe we should get moving before we draw more attention to ourselves."

Two of the clones Kote had deployed, the blond and another clone identical to Kote except for the scar, reported that Boba's suggested route through the desalination plant was clear. Kote sent them ahead again to run back with a warning if they saw any of the Death Watch. Boba led Kote and Obi-Wan through the catwalks in the near dark at speeds Obi-Wan didn't think humans could manage without the Force to let them know they were about to smack their head into a pipe. Neither Boba nor Kote seemed bothered by the gloom though.

Obi-Wan found himself putting a hand on Kote's shoulder, more easily accessible than Boba's hand, and letting the young man help guide him to keep pace. This time the three of them exited into a dimly lit maintenance corridor which opened directly into a room surrounded by floor to ceiling windows with an amazing view of the black and gray ocean below. In the center of the room was a massive commconsole complete with projection pad for a high-powered holocomm setup.

Boba threw himself into the chair at the console typing frantically. Kote looked over his shoulder frowning. "We aren't supposed to make contact in the Mid-Rim," he protested.

"I'm using the scrambler," Boba snapped, rolling his eyes. "Hey, Jedi! Stand on the projection pad!"

Kote was still frowning but helped Obi-Wan align himself with the holoproj. "Don't you need a commcode for the temple?" Obi-Wan asked in confusion.

Boba shrugged. "I'm sending it on their public comm, but..."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth then remembered he'd programmed in the mission commcodes into the console on his Aethersprite. He didn't know what the mission commcode was. "Shavit." Obi-Wan rattled off the commcodes for Luminara's, Quinlan's, and Bant's quarters and hoped one of them was home.

"Okay, its recording," Boba reported.

Obi-Wan looked into the holoproj. "Get this to a member of the High Council immediately. Yan Dooku is a Sith. He is currently on Geonosis with a Federation droid army and intends to start a war with the Republic. Master Sifo-Dyas paid the kaminoans to create a clone army for the Jedi. Also, the Death Watch, Mandalorian terrorists, are on Kamino. Send all available knights to Kamino as soon as possible. Keep Jango Fett alive. He may be the only one with the answers we need. Knight Kenobi out."

It was a good thing Master Windu was already bald.

Boba was glaring at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shrugged apologetically. "It's a complicated situation, and I didn't feel like sending a holonovel would be appropriate at the moment. This way the other Jedi know not to hurt your father."

Kote however was looking at Obi-Wan so hopefully Obi-Wan almost looked over his shoulder to see who was behind him. "The Jedi are going to come to Kamino?" he asked with an emotion Obi-Wan only recognized as excitement because it blazed in the Force.

"Well, some will certainly be showing up in the next few days," Obi-Wan said dryly. He had no doubt at least a few members of the Council would be arriving in person to find out exactly what Obi-Wan had done this time. "Are expecting someone specific, Kote?"

Kote shot a look at Boba that promised unpleasant things if the younger boy mouthed off. "We were made for the Jedi, sir. But none of us has ever gotten to meet one before you came. We've been waiting our whole lives for you."

The painful earnestness of his words was like a knife to Obi-Wan's gut. "Well," Obi-Wan said helplessly, "I'll certainly be happy to introduce you to my sibling Jedi when they arrive." After he stomped on toes until they understood just how twisted these boys had been.

With a brilliant smile that demonstrated Jango Fett was a handsome man, Kote nodded. "I look forward to it, sir." He frowned as the small, local comm on his shoulder went off. "Go for Kote."

A soft voice whispered, "Two commandos headed up to check the comm logs. Wipe it and get out of there."

Obi-Wan, Boba, and Kote all tensed. Boba pounded at the keyboard trying to clean up his trail. Obi-Wan reached down and gripped his lightsaber. He really hoped these Death Watch commandos didn't have slugthrowers. "Is it necessary to wipe the logs?" Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice low.

"Boba used Fett's codes on the relay," Kote explained in the same undertone. "If they check the logs, they'll have proof one of them just sent a comm."

"Just give me a few more minutes." Boba's teeth were bared as he typed.

"Location update," Kote ordered into his comm.

There was a grunt on the other end. "Turbolift. We're trying to buy you some time with one of those electrical malfunctions that always happen after a storm."

Kote's grin was ferocious. "Good man, Ret. We'll make our way down to Medbay Dorn-Two when Boba's finished." Obi-Wan glanced over at where Boba was chewing his lips raw as he worked.

A burst of swearing in Mando'a on the other end was followed up by, "Reau just used her override. She knows we're interfering, Kote. Ee-tee-ay three minutes."

"I need at least that," Boba said without looking up.

Kote nodded with a comfortable kind of acceptance that made Obi-Wan nervous. "It's okay, Boba. Priest had Reau teach me slicing. I can delay them. Medbay Dorn-Two. You know how to get there?"

"Yes," Boba said, keeping his eyes down. He was shaking.

"Wolffe will meet you there. By now, Alpha should know everything. He'll take care of you and the general." Kote took off his comm unit and handed it Obi-Wan.

"Kote, what's going on?" Obi-Wan demanded.

Kote looked over at Boba who was still typing. "Instructor Reau is a good slicer, sir. She caught Ret and the others trying to cause malfunctions with her turbolift. She knows something is up. If she finds me up here, I can lie, delay her. I was one of the trainees Priest sent to her for extra classes. She knows me."

Obi-Wan put his hands on his hips like he was dealing with Boba. "Kote, that can't be all of it."

With a grimace, Kote admitted, "She'll have me roughed up just to make sure I'm telling the truth. But she won't let them kill me. So it'll be okay." Obi-Wan was unfortunately familiar with the Death Watch's idea of 'roughing' someone up.

"No," Obi-Wan snapped. "Kote, I'm not leaving you here to be tortured. We can leave now. Damn the logs."

"General Kenobi, sir," Kote straightened up and revealed the brilliant man he was growing into, "whatever she'll do to me, it'll be a lovetap compared to what she'll do to Boba. He's just another clone to them, not the Prime's son. They won't hesitate to hurt him bad. You have to be able to hide him until reinforcements arrive."

Obi-Wan put his hands on Kote's shoulders. "Then I won't leave either of you behind." He looked over his shoulder. "Boba, quick as you can, my dear." Boba nodded sharply. Walking over to the turbolift doors, Obi-Wan shut his eyes. He reached out with the Force finding the guidewires and metal beams inside the turbolift shaft. Carefully, he started twisting, not enough to stop the turbolift, but enough to force the motor to struggle against the new resistance.

When Boba hissed, "Done!" Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He staggered as his body reminded him he was more gifted in non-physical manifestations of the Force.

Kote caught him and slung his arm over his shoulders. "Boba," he said sharply.

Boba was already opening a panel in the floor. "Get him down the ladder. I'll go last to close up behind us."

Obi-Wan wanted to protest, but his head was spinning. He needed all of his focus, and Kote's aid, to make his way down a long ladder disappearing into the dark. Thank the Force, he looked up just in time to see Boba closing the hidden hatch before complete darkness descended.

The three of them made their way down until Obi-Wan could swear they'd passed below the waterline and were surrounded by crushing ocean. The headache he hadn't realized he'd been using the Force to suppress was back, flickering colored spots across the inky blackness. With nothing else to distract him except his breathing, Obi-Wan could feel the days of torture he'd suffered on Geonosis.

The only reason Obi-Wan didn't hit his face into the metal ladder rungs as his boot unexpectedly slammed into a floor was Kote snatching him back. "Easy, sir," Kote murmured, "I've got you." He slung Obi-Wan's arm over his shoulder again. "Boba?"

"Here," Boba breathed from near Obi-Wan's hip. "Is he okay?"

"Fine," Obi-Wan said grimacing at the rasp in his own voice. "I used rather more of the Force than I should have. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

Kote hummed not sounding convinced. "Boba, you're going to have to scout ahead. Most likely our comms have been compromised if Reau figured out Ret's trick with the turbolift."

"But... Then Medbay Dorn-Two," Obi-Wan said dizzily. "Might they know where we're going?"

Kote chuckled darkly. "Clone code, sir. Dorn-Two doesn't exist. Only reason Boba knows is because he used to sneak around calling himself 'Lucky' to play with the tubies and cadets."

Boba grumbled but didn't deny it. "Dad never cared," he said instead. "He thinks the others were dumb for caring so much what you did in your off time."

"I know," Cody said with surprising gentleness. "Dorn-two. Come on, Boba."

Obi-Wan was wondering what spice-addled Kowakian monkey-lizard had designed the facility when Boba led them out into a corridor only lit by the stormy light and bright flashes coming through the windows on one side. The whole thing was a fever dream machine maze of interconnecting pipes pushing through, air power, water, and even sentients in slightly nicer pipes called hallways. It was amazing how easily Kote and Boba got around. Also, Obi-Wan didn't know how any Mandalorian could sleep in a place that was such a security nightmare. He wasn't sure he could.

"Almost there," Boba reassured Obi-Wan nervously as they passed through a door that had looked unpowered.

They passed a long line of small, dark rooms with a single bed inside each and observation windows Obi-Wan suspected were one-way transparisteel. There were clones, naked and without even a blanket to cover themselves, in three rooms on the end. Two Kote's age were together, crammed onto the single-man bunk recessed into the wall face to face as they slept. The third clone who was alone looked older than Kote. He paced restlessly, muttering to himself.

Kote and Boba didn't look twice at naked clones. Instead, Boba opened up the door at the end of the hall letting in the bright, white light of an infirmary.

"Kote!" Another clone Kote's age hurried forward to support Obi-Wan's other side.

Boba started to make a run for another door when he was caught by the shoulder by a clone who looked to be in his mid-twenties. "And where are you going, alor'ika?" The older clone asked Boba with an unpleasant smile.

"To see Buir," Boba spat glaring up at him. "Get your hands off me!"

"Fett's still in surgery, alor'ika," the clone said coolly, unfazed by Boba puffing himself up. "No one in the room except medics and med droids until they're finished."

"Alpha," Kote said, drawing the older clone's attention, "this is General Kenobi. He's working with Fett."

'Alpha' nodded, expression offering no opinion. "Wolffe mentioned that. He looks like he came out of hyperspace in the wrong orientation. Get him on the bed and I'll find a spare medic."

Kote, and the other clone who Obi-Wan was fairly sure was 'Wolffe' from the mess, helped Kote heave Obi-Wan onto a bed that was little better than a gurney bolted to the floor. "Alpha Seventeen is an alpha batcher, commando grade, trained for special ops," Kote explained as he urged Obi-Wan to lay back. "Fett trained the Alphas himself, and Alpha is my training officer." He sounded very proud of the connection.

"I see," Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth as reclining put pressure on ribs that did not like it.

Boba sulked over to the edge of the bed watching Kote carefully. He tried to scowl to cover up his sudden burst of anxiety as the other adult who'd been caring for him during this disaster revealed they too were injured. "Is he okay?" he demanded from Wolffe.

Wolffe bared his teeth and let out an animalistic growl. "Kriff off, brat." Boba ignored him, turning his imperious gaze on Kote.

"He will be," Kote said, keeping one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Go check in with security, Boba. The ghosts should be nice and active, but I want to be sure." Boba nodded and went over to one of the screens set into the wall.

Kote handed his comm unit to Wolffe. "Don't have too much fun," he said with a wry smile.

Wolffe gave a grin to match his namesake. "I'll try." Then he attached Kote's comm to his shoulder and headed off at a brisk jog.

Obi-Wan grunted, trying to sit up. Kote stopped him. "We're safe here, sir. Vau killed the tech who used this lab. No one comes down here except for Instructor Gilamar and us. One of the Nulls rerouted the security grid in this whole area to the floor above us. And the boys on camera duty have been running a ghost protocol through the security system to make us impossible to track."

"Sull, Havoc, and Colt are on the door in hardshells with live rounds," Alpha-17 added as he came over with a medic who looked the same age as he was. "Any one who tries to fight their way is in for a nasty surprise. This is Tavo. He's one of our medics."

Tavo grunted in greeting. "Are Jedi any different than baseline humans?" he asked, looking over the readouts from the scanner attached to the bed. Kote looked embarrassed.

"No," Obi-Wan said letting his head flop back. "Baseline human."

"Good. Because you look like you came out of Priest's battle circle." Tavo slapped an infuser onto Obi-Wan's neck with the ease of a battle medic. "We'll start with bacta."

Tavo ended up putting two more infusers, one for fluids and one for a bag of antibiotics that was a positively lethal shade of orange, on Obi-Wan before he was happy. Kote hovered nearby the whole time ready to offer a pouch of water or electrolyte solution if Obi-Wan even thought he might like a sip. It took Alpha-17 shooing off the younger clone with orders to secure some caf, and tea if he could, for everyone to make Kote leave Obi-Wan's side.

Alpha-17 looked down at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan couldn't feel a thing from him in the Force. They considered each other in silence for a long moment. Then Alpha-17 said, "The injuries to Fett were from a lightsaber. Was it you?"

"No. I'm fairly sure the man who had me tortured is the same one who tried to murder your father," Obi-Wan replied with equal bluntness.

"Fett's not my parent, Kenobi," Alpha-17 sighed. "He's not a parent to any of us. Boba's his only son. You need to remember that. Me and the other alphas, it doesn't bother us like it does some of the younger trainees."

Alpha-17 settled against the edge of Obi-Wan's bed with more familiarity than Obi-Wan was comfortable with. Though it seemed to be normal for the clones. "So this sentient pile of poodoo who kriffed with you and Fett is dead?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan answered honestly. "I doubt it unfortunately. Fett did a number on him, but I have reason to believe Dooku is still alive."

"Yeah. Hard for a dead man to put a bounty on someone," Alpha-17 agreed. "I was hoping it was more a last gasp. Are we going to be dealing with more lightsabers before Skirata arrives?"

Obi-Wan considered then shook his head. "No. Dooku doesn't like to expose himself in situations he can't control. And I'd say Tipoca City is a situation no one is completely in control of right now."

With a pearly white snarl masquerading as a smile, Alpha-17 said, "Oh... I like you, jetii."

"Right now, my brothers and our trainees are holding the cloning facilities and Aurek-Two. We're only letting in Priest's commandos two at a time. There's four currently going through the facility to clear it under our supervision. The long-necks have security droids in all of Besh section. Priest is holding the rest of Aurek including the hangar bays we use for resupply." Alpha-17 smirked when Obi-Wan groaned. "One of the long-necks who's friendly with Fett has patched us to external comms through her intranet connection. Bad news is, once we send an external comm, Reau will know we have it and shut us down. So we get one message out."

"What about the commandos in the cloning facility?" Obi-Wan asked. "Will your brothers be safe if fighting starts?"

"Priest is holding off on combat for as long as he can, since he knows Kote and I are in charge. We don't like him very much and have the bodies to bury him and his people if we so desire." Alpha-17 tapped a finger against his forearm. "I'd rather not do that if we can avoid it. Most of our troopers old enough for hardshells are still months out from being fully trained. Without a solid plan, it'd just be weighing Priest and his commandos down with corpses until me or one of the other Alphas can kill them."

Obi-Wan realized that, if he ordered it, despite his attitude Alpha-17 would throw his raw troopers into the meat grinder. He closed his eyes and breathed. "Let's not do that," he agreed. "I need a cup of tea and a chance to catch my breath before I can be useful to you. Do we have time?"

Alpha-17 nodded. His relief was only noticeable in the Force. "If Skirata's estimated time of arrival is accurate we have a little over two standard days before we have to do anything."

"Then no decisions need to be made now," Obi-Wan said firmly. "This is not the time or the place to be hasty."

"Agreed. I'll see what Kote can do about securing a supply of tea," Alpha-17 said straightening. "And I'll get Fett's son something to keep him out of trouble." Eyeing Tavo, Alpha-17 added, "I'd just let Tavo have his way, Kenobi. He was decanted with a stubborn streak as bad as a null's."

Obi-Wan snorted. "I'll keep that in mind." He glowered at the medic who gave him a slow smile. "If I let you prod me some more, do I get painkillers?"

"Only if you say 'please' and 'thank you'," Tavo responded cheerfully, loading up the hypos despite his teasing.

*****

The door to the surgery opened while Obi-Wan was looking through a datapad loaded up with schematics of Tipoca City. Tavo and a younger clone medic pushed a hoverygurney out with poles attached to the head to hang a more complex set of sensors and several bags feeding infuser lines. Fett’s color was noticeably improved. A thick layer of batca bandages encased Fett’s powerful chest, leaving golden brown arms and shoulders bare. Obi-Wan quickly turned his eyes to the softly humming scanners. Then his gaze darted back down. “Is that necessary?”

Tavo grimaced as he and Kix tightened down the black, flexible straps which would restrain Fett to the bed. “There’s a chance he might accidentally kill someone while he’s disoriented. We’ve had incidents before.” The medic looked over at Boba, who was watching the proceedings anxiously. “It’s okay, Boba. Kix, help him up.”

The younger medic nodded and held out his hands while leaning down. Boba rushed over and the medic, Kix, lifted him up onto the bed to lay alongside his father. “He’ll be waking up soon,” Kix told Boba, resting a comforting had on the boy’s dark curls. “He handled the surgery well. There won’t be any complications.”

Boba nodded, chewing at his lip in a transparent attempt to conceal his distress. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice.

“It’s our pleasure, alor’ika.” Kix smiled at Boba before his handsome face went stormy upon spotting Obi-Wan. “You should be sleeping, sir.”

Kote who’d returned from his hunt for tea only to be side-tracked by the security system frowned. “Watch your tone, trooper. 

Obi-Wan held up a hand to ward off Kote’s disapproval from Kix. “I’m afraid there’s too much to be done at the moment, Kix. I’ll get some sleep when I can. Though I do feel much better.”

“Two units of bacta will do that,” Tavo informed Kix wryly. “Alpha gave the orders. You need to keep your hypos to yourself for the moment.” Kix nodded but didn’t look happy about it.

“Sorry, general,” Kote said apologetically, keeping his voice low. “Kix is one of the best medics, probably the best medic, in the program, but he’s got a mouth on him.”

Obi-Wan wondered how that fairly mild display of concern for Obi-Wan’s health counted as ‘mouthiness’. “I was hardly offended, Kote. Kix seems dedicated.” Kote nodded obediently even though Obi-Wan’s sense of him wasn’t of a young man to whom unquestioning compliance came naturally. That discrepancy grated.

“Dad!” Boba’s excited exclamation made Obi-Wan set down his datapad. There was a spike of simplistic fear as Fett jerked against his restraints.

Obi-Wan swung his leg off his bed. “You’re safe, Fett,” he said hoping Fett might recognize his voice despite their brief acquaintance. “We’re on Kamino. You had a severe, bleeding wound to your liver. It was lethal. The surgery to repair the injury was successful. You’ve been restrained as a precaution against hurting Boba or one the medics while you recover from sedation.”

“My son,” Fett said roughly, body so still and stiff he could have been a statue.

Obi-Wan nodded encouragingly at Boba. “Buir, I’m here,” Boba said scrambling up to wrap his arm around his father’s neck, pressing his forehead to the side of Fett’s face. Fett’s eyes closed. Even if his expression didn’t shift Obi-Wan could feel his relief.

Obi-Wan started undoing the medical restraints across Fett’s legs. Fett watched him cautiously though his head was turned to keep contact with his son. “Why Kamino?”

Boba answered for Obi-Wan. “Gilamar said to take you here. I called Kal Skirata when you wouldn’t wake up. The jetii said you were dying and the medical scan was really bad. I didn’t know if the jetii was lying, and you said Skirata was almost as good as us. So I figured he could kill the jetii if he was lying.”

Fett closed his eyes. His self-control was good enough he didn’t sigh or groan and avoided distressing Boba. “Right. Dooku?” That question was for Obi-Wan.

“He’s alive, unfortunately. Though I believe he’s unlikely to follow us. However, it appears he’s hired some of your brethren to collect you and your son. Priest and Reau are the leaders. They’re on Kamino. However, Alpha-Seventeen and several of the young commanders have been distracting them.” Obi-Wan finished removing the last strap across Fett’s shoulders.

Fett sat up with his son's help, running a hand across his own chest to check on his injuries. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to kill Priest for a while now. My armor?”

Boba flinched. Obi-Wan gave Fett a strained smile. “It was durasteel, not beskar. And you were fighting a Jedi. I’m sorry, Fett. You’ll need more than a few new plates, and definitely a new kute.”

Fett hissed between his teeth. Then he breathed out. “Fine. I can use the plastoid kark the long-necks put on the clones.”

“Fett, I understand you are more than capable of handling two Death Watch commandos by yourself. However, you currently have a biomesh plug in your liver which is stopping you from bleeding out. I would strongly suggest waiting a least a day before doing anything more strenuous than walking to the fresher.” At Fett’s skeptical look, Obi-Wan added, “I’ve been the recipient of more than one biomesh plug. I’d advise learning from my mistakes.”

“Dad,” Boba added nervously when Fett got a stubborn set to his jaw. “Please.”

To reinforce Boba’s plea, Obi-Wan added, “The Mandalorian I spoke to, Skirata I believe?, will be here in two days with commandos of his own. Alpha is attempting to establish the precise number of men Priest and Reau brought with them as we speak. No one knows for sure you, Boba, and I are on Kamino, Fett. A kaminoan by the name of Taun We was kind enough to cover our tracks. Alpha and Kote and several of the other clones then hid us down here to wait for Skirata to arrive.”

Fett looked around, finally seeing the clones who were scattered around the small infirmary. His eyes had passed over them so quickly they might as well have been furniture. “Priest knows we’re here or he’d be gone by now. He just doesn’t want to pick a fight with one of my Alphas when he’s out-numbered.”

Fett’s possessiveness was out of place when the man had ignored the other clones so easily, but Obi-Wan nodded. “They’re Death Watch. So I’m not out of the shavit either. I’m associated with House Kryze. Besides being a jetii, my association with the Duchess is a death sentence much more painful.”

“You know what the Death Watch does to jetiise?” Fett asked skeptically.

“I’ve survived it, Fett. And I’m not eager to find out what they’ll do to a man who helped put Satine Kryze on her throne.” Obi-Wan watched Fett carefully not sure what to expect.

Fett’s lip curled up in dark amusement. “Ah. So the jetiise would kill us twice over.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“At Galidraan, your people sided with the Death Watch. Of course they would support Kryze, who would kill our souls, our language, and our spirit in the name of ‘pacifism’. You’ll kriff whoever promises to kill the monsters that still lurk at the edges of your nightmares.” Fett shook his head in disgust. “I should have put a blasterbolt in your head.”

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan admitted as kindly as he knew how. “But you didn’t. And I thank you for that mercy, Jango Fett.”

Fett looked away. “It wasn’t mercy. I just wanted to take everything Dooku gave a damn about.”

“A blasterbolt can be a mercy, Fett,” Obi-Wan said instead of something defensive. For all Fett was awake and talking, his faculties weren’t completely recovered. Obi-Wan didn’t think it fair to push too hard at the moment. “So I’ll thank you regardless. We’re safe for the moment. When Alpha returns, I’d appreciate your input on a strategy for dealing with our unwanted guests.”

Fett looked at him suspiciously before nodding slowly. “Yeah. We don’t have two days. Priest may be playing nice for now, but once he figures out our location he’ll come hard and fast without consideration for collateral damage.” He turned his head, eyes skipping over Kix and landing on Tavo. “Medic…” There was a flash of recognition, “Tavo?”

Tavo nodded expressionlessly. “Yes, sir.”

“How long until I can fight?” Fett asked while absently stroking Boba’s hair.

“It’ll be twelve to sixteen hours for the plug to set. I can’t recommend you do more than lay quietly until then.” Tavo reached up and moved the screen of the scanner so Fett could see it. “We’re tracking the seal integration here, sir.”

Fett scanned the readout and nodded. “Right. Tavo, get me a datapad with a security hookup. Boba, do you need anything, ner’ad?”

“No, buir,” Boba said quietly, having plastered himself to his father’s side.

“I’ll bring him some muja juice,” Tavo said, and Obi-Wan had a sense this exchange was an old one.

Fett nodded. “Vor’e, Tavo.” He scowled but looked up at Obi-Wan. “We’ll need to give something for Priest to chew on eventually, or he’ll start on the clones. Alpha won’t be able to fob him off forever. If I can’t move around by then I’ll need to ask for your help baiting him.”

“Not a clone?” Obi-Wan asked neutrally. He’d expected Fett to be more willing to risk them.

“Alpha is the only one who might be able to take Priest head-on,” Fett said with a little bit of a sneer like he couldn’t believe Obi-Wan didn’t recognize the difference between Alpha-17 and the others. “And that’s a might. Even then Priest won’t go after Alpha, or any of the Alphas, directly. He’ll grab some of the Cee-tees and Cee-cees and start cutting them up until one of the Alphas break. We need to be gone by then.”

“And the clones?” Obi-Wan demanded. He couldn’t imagine Kote would agree to let him go off on his own even if Fett’s logic seemed sound. “They’re the only reason we haven’t been captured yet.”

Fett nodded. “The Alphas are good boys and the standards are genetically devoted to you, jetii. But they’ll die if they fight Priest and his bootlickers. If Priest thinks we’re gone, he’ll have no reason to bother them.”

“You have a plan?” Obi-Wan realized setting aside the comment about ‘genetically devoted’ for the moment. He didn’t want Kix and Tavo to overhear Fett’s no doubt carelessly cruel explanation.

“Yes. We’ll discuss it when I can stand up without tearing up Tavo’s hard work.” When they could get away from the clones’ watchful eyes and security systems Obi-Wan assumed. Fett started to push himself up as Tavo came over with the requested datapad and a small bag of juice for Boba. “Vor’e,” Fett told the medic gruffly as he accepted them. Tavo nodded in acknowledgement and retreated to stand with Kix who’d started doing inventory.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice the silence that had fallen over all the clones. The younger ones who’d been wandering through the medbay on some pretext to meet Obi-Wan merely glanced at him before moving on. It wasn’t quite fear Fett inspired in the clones. There was some fear, but also awe and the sort of longing Obi-Wan had seen in the eyes of older initiates looking at padawanless masters. Fett roundly ignored any clone who wasn’t speaking directly to him unless he needed something. Every clone except Boba.

Obi-Wan hadn’t been allowed around children on Mandalore. The New Mandalorians didn’t have many, and the more traditional Mandalorians still thought of Jedi as baby-stealers. The one time he’d seen a parent and a child under thirteen standard, he’d been overwhelmed by the raw, primal love the armored warrior had been radiating into the Force as they cradled their little girl. Fett felt the same as Boba was convinced to curl around his father’s feet for a much needed nap.

Fett seemed to have decided that now that he had Obi-Wan it was part of his duty to keep him alive. Obi-Wan was content to let Fett take the lead and observe the man. Alpha’s dry, black humor settled into cool professionalism when he saw Fett. Kote puffed up like a startled tooka before scuttling over to plant himself defensively at Obi-Wan’s side. “I couldn’t find any tea that wasn’t in bottles, but I heated up a thermoflask for you, sir,” Kote said, offering Obi-Wan the flask.

“Thank you, Kote.” Obi-Wan took a sip. It took all of his training not to spit it back out. Kote, in a lovely gesture, had heated up the cheap, burnt black tea intended to be drunk cold by those who didn’t give a damn about their taste buds. It was also the first tea Obi-Wan had to drink since Coruscant. He took a long slug. Kote’s flush of happiness was all the sweetener he needed.

Alpha saluted Fett. Fett nodded in return and silently gestured at his sleeping to indicate why he was moving to return the acknowledgement. “How many commandos does Priest have with him?” Fett asked quietly so Boba didn’t stir.

“Reau’s the only other one I recognize,” Alpha replied also keeping his voice low. “The others made an attempt to mark up their armor like some of the Cuy’val Dar, but they weren’t ever instructors here. There’s twenty-two besides Reau and Priest that Fox has identified. They came on a light transport. The scans the engineering techs managed to run on it before they got run off suggest there was a pilot on the ship as well.”

“I didn’t know I made Priest quite so paranoid,” Fett said wryly.

Alpha-17’s expression didn’t change form perfect, military blankness. “I expect he thought we’d put up a fight to protect you and Boba, sir.”

Fett’s expression went just as blank as Alpha-17’s. “You know I’m not going to give you that order, Alpha.”

“I expect Priest knows that too, sir.” Alpha-17 continued without missing a beat. “Priest is claiming that he’s here to protect you from the false Jedi who attempted to kill you. Neyo volunteered to assist him in locating you. Bacara, Cort Davin’s pet project, is helping him.”

“Shavit. Then they found the Slave One?” Fett growled when Alpha-17 nodded. “How many of the clones know I’m here?”

Alpha-17 sighed. “Boba got lucky, sir. He wandered into the Cee-Cee and accelerated training group’s mess time. Our trainees kept things quiet. Maze and Nate have been working on rumor quashing, but Neyo is… persistent. And he was Priest’s favorite.”

Obi-Wan leaned over and murmured to Kote, “What is Alpha talking about, Kote?”

“The first run of Cee-Cees was only a hundred units,” Kote replied, ducking his head and whispering. “I’m from the second run of fifteen hundred. Neyo and Bacara were from the first run like Doom and Fox. But Fox and Doom were in Vau’s first training group. Neyo and Bacara weren’t so lucky. Neyo was assigned to Priest before Prime put the training code into place. I was in Priest’s second training group. Alpha pulled me for the Alpha batcher’s training squads after Priest gave me my scar. The ones who weren’t so lucky came out a bit strange. They might listen to Priest over you, sir.”

It seemed to Obi-Wan listening to the trainer they would have known their entire life over a stranger was more natural. Even if that trainer was unkind. Kote acted like it was a… Well a defect. “That’s very understandable, Kote. They know and trust him. They have no reason to trust me.”

Kote snorted scornfully. “You're a Jedi. Priest is a shabuir. They’re just scared of him.”

“Bacara is better under fire than you, Kote,” Alpha-17 interrupted. “Neyo is a better tactician. Don’t underestimate them.”

Kote flushed an ugly red, lowering his eyes. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Take it easy on him, Alpha,” Fett sighed. He looked at Obi-Wan with his explanation, “Neyo and Bacara started training back when we thought we could make Mandalorians out of the clones. It wasn’t fair to ask. You can’t make mythosaurs out of strills. You only ruin the strill for trying.”

Obi-Wan had heard enough. “That’s unnecessary, Fett. There’s nothing… lesser about these men. They’re individuals, sentients. And they’ve protected us at risk to themselves and their brothers. Some consideration wouldn’t be out of place.”

Fett snorted. “Have it your way, jetii. Thank you, Alpha, Kote. Neyo and Bacara are going to be a problem. I’ve got another twelve hours, minimum, before I can move around. I’d appreciate it if you’d hold them off until then. I know how to get us out of the way until Skirata gets here.” His pointedly good manners were more mocking than if he’d been bluntly cruel.

“You can’t take General Kenobi!” Kote nearly shouted, reining in his tone at the last moment. “It’s our job to protect the Jedi, sir. We can protect you and Boba as well.”

Something ugly twisted up in the Force. Kote genuinely believed what he was saying, but it wasn’t the truth. Though which part was untrue Obi-Wan couldn’t say. “If you don’t know where we are, then Priest has no reason to bother you,” Fett snapped at Kote.

Kote narrowed his eyes. “Priest doesn’t know for sure the general is here. I can protect him.”

“Boy, are you looking to make your face prettier?” Fett’s growl had Obi-Wan putting a hand on Kote’s chest in case the young man decided to lunge for the older Mandalorian. “The only thing you’ve ever killed is another standard. Killing a Mandalorian commando, even Death Watch scum, is something you aren’t built for.”

“Kot’ika,” Alpha-17 added more gently, “enough. He’s not wrong. Bly has the little brothers in the storm shelters for now, but Priest knows these facilities almost as well as we do. What do you think he’ll do to make you talk? Fett’s not wrong. We can become a liability in a moment.”

Kote snarled with the ferocity that unnerved Obi-Wan slightly. “Then let’s kill him!” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how Fett could look at this boy and say he wasn’t Mandalorian.

“I said enough!” Alpha’s bark was loud enough Boba yipped in surprise, jerking awake.

Fett scooped up his son, murmuring in quiet Mando’a. Alpha-17 breathed hard through his nose. “Take a walk, Kote. That’s not a request.”

Kote turned to Obi-Wan, dark eyes stormy as the sky outside. Obi-Wan tilted his head giving the boy permission to obey. Fett watched him cold with identical eyes that were made of black ice. “That one’s going to be a problem, Alpha.”

“Not your problem anymore sir,” Alpha-17 replied flatly. “I’d get some sleep while you can. I can delay until you’re stable. Maze is getting some armor fabricated for you. Between that and Boba’s uniform you’ll be able to pass at a distance.”

“Have a set fabricated for the Jedi as well,” Fett ordered settling back down obviously intending to take Alpha-17’s advice and catch a quick nap while he could.

“Yes, sir.” Alpha-17 turned on his heel and strode away.

Obi-Wan followed him, a niggling sense of unease in his gut. He ducked into the nearby fresher to give Alpha-17 time to get ahead of him. Reaching out with the Force he tracked the older clone, when he was far enough down the hall Obi-Wan pulled the Force around himself in a simple ‘notice-me-not’ mindtrick and stepped out of the fresher.

Alpha-17 walked with purpose. His stride eating up distance as he made his way through the dark corridors. He stopped in front of a door with no power, sliding it open manually. Inside was a dark room walled in on three sides by floor to ceiling windows overlooking the black and gray ocean. Even the floor was a durasteel grid with panels of transparisteel. Metal shelves lined the walls full of troughs divided for planting, but the few that contained plants were nothing but black and brown, dried out remains.

Kote paced in front of the window on the far side of the room where the shelves had been moved to create a space. “Kotep,” Alpha-17 said with no inflection to indicate his intent. Obi-Wan blinked because that sounded like a name.

Kote, Kotep?, turned to face Alpha-17. “Sir…” The word was cut off suddenly by the crack of flesh on flesh as Alpha-17 backhanded the younger clone hard enough to make him stagger.

“Are you defective?” Alpha-17 demanded coldly. “I give you a lot of leash, Kotep, because before this you’ve always used it wisely. You damn near strangled yourself with it back there.”

“Alpha!” Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to stem the bright red trickle of blood, the younger clone started to lift his head only to duck down again when Alpha-17 glared at him. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Come here, Kotep.” Alpha-17 put a hand on Kote’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Kote let himself be guided forward to rest his forehead against Alpha-17’s. “You never, ever argue with a nat-born superior head-on. I taught you better.”

Kote stepped in closer somehow hiding himself behind Alpha-17 even though they were roughly the same size. “Sorry, Alpha,” Kote repeated, sounding much younger and less grudging. Though his words were slurred by the injury to his mouth.

Alpha-17 ran a rough hand over the curve of Kote’s skull. There was a galaxy of unspoken weight in the gesture. “Good. Clean yourself up. Don’t let Fett rile you again.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Kote sniffed and rubbed a hand across his mouth smearing the blood. He didn’t flinch though the gesture couldn’t have been comfortable.

Alpha-17 clicked his tongue in warning. “Don’t. Never let them see you bleed, vod’ika.”

Kote stood still, lips parted slightly as Alpha-17 sponged the visible blood off his mouth with a cloth he pulled out of a pouch on his belt then hid again. When his face was clean, Kote tucked in his lips, sucking occasionally to swallow the blood so it wouldn’t be visible. “Jate.” Alpha-17 patted Kote’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan, who had dropped the notice-me-not and stepped forward when Kote had been struck, froze as Alpha-17 turned around and glared at him. He flicked his eyes pointedly to order Obi-Wan out of the room before Kote could notice him. Obi-Wan bowed and obeyed, using the Force to muffle his footsteps. Alpha-17 traded a few more quiet words with Kote before he too exited the old greenhouse, dragging the door shut behind him.

“Can I help you, sir?” Alpha-17 asked woodenly once Kote had his privacy.

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked. He could feel that Alpha-17 took no pleasure in striking the younger clone. In fact, he very distinctly felt the opposite.

“Better me than Fett or the long-necks. Good soldiers don’t backtalk. You ordered an army, jetii. Did you think we were going to train them with sweetcakes, stuffed nerfs, and hugs?” Alpha-17’s voice was perfectly controlled, remotely curious. Inside dark, cold currents rolled offering very little else to Obi-Wan’s sense of him.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms wishing for his cloak to make the gesture more dignified. “The Jedi didn’t order the clones, Alpha. I followed Fett to Kamino based on a weapon he used. You and your brothers were a surprise to say the least.”

Alpha-17 frowned. “That… Doesn’t seem right. Fett’s careful and taught us to be careful. He wouldn’t have used a distinctive weapon if he had a blaster or something harder to trace.”

“I know. It all seems a bit convenient now. In fact, the only thing that hasn’t been convenient since this whole thing started was Fett trying murder Dooku and deciding to kidnap me a second time.” Obi-Wan pressed his arms against his stomach. “Alpha, I don’t dare ask him questions directly. He’s still dangerous, despite being wounded, and volatile. He certainly has no love for Jedi. I don’t know why he saved me. But you and Tavo seem to mean something to him even if you aren’t his sons.”

“As long as we’re obedient, yes.” Alpha-17 shook his head seeming genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Kenobi. I’ll help you deal with Priest, but I’m not getting between you and Fett. Neither will my batchmates. Don’t ask Kote or any of the other standards to try. Fett doesn’t think of them as anything more than particularly talkative livestock. He won’t hesitate to hurt them if they annoy him.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “But his own son is a clone. No different than you or Kote.”

“Supposedly Boba is unaltered. The only unadulterated copy of Fett. He definitely didn’t get the development acceleration modifications.” Alpha-17 shrugged.

“He’s not a perfect copy though,” Obi-Wan realized. “He’s sturdy in a way children his age usually aren’t, emotionally and physically. And his night vision is better than human standard. The same as Kote’s.”

Alpha-17 tilted his head not committing to anything. “We’re stronger, think faster, have better reflexes, sharper senses, and better recall than baseline humans. And we grow those traits in earlier development stages. Our full growth height is two meters, taller than Fett would have been even with perfect nutrition his whole life.”

“Boba’s going to be two meters when he finishes growing.” Obi-wan breathed out slowly. “Fett has to know.”

“He probably does, but good luck getting him to admit it.” Alpha grinned wolfishly. “Go ahead and ask the real question, Kenobi.”

“Why? It seems like it would be easier to just create an exact copy?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“Because the long-necks are genetic supremacists. According to them, nature always produces a lesser product. They decide on a template, alter genetic profiles to fit that template, and destroy all units that vary too much from that template. Regardless of the practicality or actual implications of the template. If Boba isn’t a perfect copy of Fett then he’s a perfect copy of the first generation clones, the Nulls. Skirata adopted them, and they’re all crazy. The long-necks wanted to destroy the whole batch for not meeting standards.” Alpha-17 flexed his fingers absently. Obi-Wan suspected he wasn’t fond of the Nulls either. “With each successive batch, the long-necks tinkered to make us more complacent, more pliable, less able to operate independently. The Cee-Tees are the most altered, followed by the second gen Cee-cees then the first gens. I’m an Alpha, the batch after the Nulls and before the Cee-cees.”

Obi-Wan needed more information and quickly. “Is there some way I can get my hands on these templates? A report on the alterations and their effects? And the contract that set those standards? Also any information on what happened to boys who didn’t meet standards?”

Alpha-17 nodded. “I’ll talk to Taun We. Since the Jedi are paying for us, you should have access to everything.”

“Thank you, Alpha.” Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face. “Is there somewhere I could safely be that won’t put Kote and Fett in the same room?”

“Yes. There’s a… call it break room. I’ll show you.” Alpha took Obi-Wan to a small room with furniture made of wood and upholstered in red and blue fabric. It looked like nothing Obi-Wan had seen outside Fett’s apartment. He wondered if the clones had taken the furniture when the apartment was shut down. Kix was there along with the blond clone and an older clone who Obi-Wan hadn’t met before.

Alpha-17 settled Obi-Wan in one of the upholstered chairs running off the blonde clone who’d been sitting with a look. “I’ll send Kote with the documents you requested.”

Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him from leaving. “Alpha, is that his name? ‘Glory’?”

“It’s the one he was allowed to use.” Alpha-17 nodded when Obi-Wan gave him a half-bow in dismissal headed off to no doubt effectively manage whatever other situations had appeared.

****

The documentation on the datapad Kote provided was overwhelming in volume. It was a trick Obi-Wan was imminently familiar with from his time negotiating complex trade contracts and cease fires. While it might sidetrack most sentients and the right phrasing could mislead droids used to parse and summarize, Obi-Wan had the Force. He pulled his legs up onto the chair folding them beneath him.

The blond clone paused the bodyweight workout routine he’d been running through with one of the command clones Obi-Wan hadn’t been introduced to. “Sir?”

“I’m going to be doing a focused meditation.” Obi-Wan explained as the datapad rose from his lap to hover in front of him. “Floating and possibly a little glowing are normal side effects.” All the clones were watching the datapad with feelings ranging from wariness to a thrill of joy.

“Can someone who’s not a Jedi meditate?” the blond asked.

Obi-Wan gestured to the floor in front of him. “Anyone can. Though there’s generally less floating and certainly no glowing for those who aren’t Force sensitive.” Four clones lined up in front of him, mimicking him, folding their legs tailor style on the floor. They’re spines were all military straight. No need to lecture them on proper posture. Obi-Wan breathed in slowly through his nose and held it. The clones mirrored him perfectly, exhaling just after he did. “First, a simple mindfulness exercise. Close eyes and breath in. Focus on that breathing. Think only of breathing in.” Obi-Wan ran them through another breath with their eyes closed. “Now, when you breath out think only of breathing out. First, only of breathing in, then only of breathing out. If any thoughts pop up in between, I want you to gently tell them ‘not now’ and set them to the side. Then return to your breathing.”

Reaching out, Obi-Wan gently brushed across their minds one by one showing them just briefly that state of stillness they were looking for. “I want you to practice that exercise of focusing only on your breathing until you’re ready to stop. Don’t be frustrated if you have trouble quieting your mind. Take a moment, take a break, try again. Jedi younglings begin learning this exercise at the same time they learn to speak. They aren’t expected to be able to do it well until they are senior initiates, nine years later. It takes time and practice to become proficient. Be kind to yourself.”

Obi-Wan breathed in, held it, and breathed out. The clones breathed with him displaying the ease of boys who’d been trained in group exercises since they were old enough to stand. The pain twisting through Obi-Wan’s chest smoothed over as he released it into the Force. After a few cycles, with the occasional quiet correction, Obi-Wan murmured, “I am about to begin my own meditation. Please continue as long as you feel comfortable.”

There was an equally quiet chorus of “Yes, sir”s. Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself, pressing warm fondness against their presences like he might with Jedi younglings. The blond distinctly pushed back which was curious.

Obi-Wan set the thought to the side as he’d instructed his brand new students and plunged into the currents of the Force. He opened eyes and flicked his fingers across the screen parsing through the data speeds no normal human could. Occasionally his fingertips would tingle and he’d slow enough to take in every, single word of a section instead just the intent.

By then end of the main contract, before Obi-Wan had even started digging into the addendums, the too sweet, sickly sour rot of darkness sat heavy in the back of his throat. The lettering in the addendums wavered as he watched it like there was something wrong with the datapad. Looking at it directly to limit the movement made Obi-Wan sick.

He skipped the addendum for the moment and moved on to the clones’ growth and training reports. Those were worse. Obi-Wan shut down the datapad and began an empty mediation to scrap the sticky, red rage out himself to wash away in the Force. Then he opened up the next set of reports.

When he floated back down into the chair, there were a dozen clones sitting cross-legged on the floor. His original four students were gone but had instructed their brothers. Obi-Wan could hear them breathing in unison as they focused on emptying their minds. Kote was among them. Obi-Wan reached out nudging his mind then his shoulder.

Kote’s eyes blinked open slowly. “I need to see Alpha,” Obi-Wan said grasping his arm and pulling him to his feet. “Now, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Kote rubbed a hand across his face. He was still obviously in that slightly dazed state that clouded people unused to deep meditation. His fingers found Obi-Wan’s, and Kote took Obi-Wan by the hand. 

Obi-Wan said nothing following Kote through the maze of dark hallways. They stopped in front of a turbolift on emergency power. Kote tapped the intercom. It buzzed and a voice identical to his said, “Go for Security Isk.”

“This is Kote. The new officer needs to speak to Alpha, over.”

There was long, staticky silence on the other end before a voice that was distinctly Alpha’s growled. “Room is clear. Come up and explain yourselves. Security Isk over and out.”

Kote and Obi-Wan wedged themselves in the turbolift meant for a single maintenance droid for a long, creaky ride up several hundred meters. The door that slid open was less a door than a wall panel. Obi-Wan blinked as the harsh, white light of a kaminoan style room flooded into the cramped, dark space. Kote wiggled out first before helping Obi-Wan over the crude, uneven lip of the turbolift so different from the main areas of the facility.

Alpha was encased in brilliant white armor and fitted black undersuit that matched the aesthetics of the room. There was a helmet, an uncomfortable, poorly rendered imitation of a Mandalorian buy’ce, under his arm. Silver panels lined the walls, but they weren’t windows but liquidy looking screens. The displays showed eerily identical tableaus of clones at different stages of development.

“Why are you up top, Kenobi?” Alpha-17 asked impatiently. He was obviously busy.

Obi-Wan couldn’t wait though. “I finished my first read through of the data you provided me.” At Alpha’s skeptical look, he added, “The Force is a powerful ally with some unusual applications if you know what you’re doing. I need to speak to you alone.”

Unsurprised, Alpha-17 gestured sharply. “Clear the room. You as well, Kote.”

The clones, most dressed in the same, fragile-looking white armor as Alpha-17, stood up and silently vacated through a door opposite the turbolift. More reluctantly, Kote followed them out, glancing over his shoulder one last time like he was waiting for Obi-Wan to recall him. Then the door shut with that musical kind chime that was starting to grate on Obi-Wan’s nerves. He and Alpha-17 were alone.

Alpha-17 walked over to one of the consoles and tapped in a sequence that made all the screens go blank and begin to buzz softly. “We’ve got ten minutes. What do you need, sir?”

“What was the cull rate?” Obi-Wan asked, already dreading the answer. “I know why you gave me the individual reports. You wanted to make sure I understood they were people, boys with hopes and dreams and wants of their own. I know they were Alpha, but I need the meta reports. I need to know the cull rates.”

“The term is decommissioned, not culled. Six out of seven of the viable units from the Nulls if Skirata hadn’t stepped in. The seventh was Boba. One in four for my batch. It would have been one in two if Fett hadn’t fought the long-necks every time. One in seven for the first gen Cee-cees. Fett only fought it if the training officer asked. Not many did. One in ten for the second gens, but those tended to cluster for some reason. By then, the long-necks had gotten tired of the Cuy’val Dar interfering. They just took the defective units in the night without warning. The decommissioning rate decreased with each gen of Cee-tees. It’s currently a little lower than one in a hundred. And most of those are decommissioned directly after decanting. I’m not including the units that weren’t viable or the numbers would be higher.” Alpha-17 crossed his arms

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his irritatingly long hair. He really should clip it, but the long hair made him look older and reminded him of Master Qui-Gon. “How? This is… They are demagolkase, Alpha. Child-killers. How could anyone have let this happen and call themselves Mandalorian?” 

“We aren’t children, Kenobi. We’re not people. To become Mandalorian you have to have the capability of containing a soul, a connection to the manda. The Cuy’val Dar decided every gen after the Nulls was too distorted to do that. It wasn’t just Fett, Kenobi. It was all of them. So maybe they’re right.” Alpha -17 shrugged and he was truly beyond caring.

Obi-Wan’s heart ached for him. “That’s a load of bantha poodoo. I’m telepathetic and empathetic, Alpha. I can feel your minds and your emotions. You’re part of the Force just like every other living thing. You have a soul. There’s no reason you couldn’t find a place in the manda.”

“If you believe then why did the Jedi buy us to use as cannonfodder so nat-borns wouldn't have to risk themselves?” Alpha-17 didn’t bother to sweeten the truth as he knew it. Obi-Wan was coming to like that unapologetic bluntness.

“When I read the contract, I found some sections that were very strange. I’m not convinced the one who wrote it  _ was _ a Jedi. Quite opposite in fact, and that worries me. You and brothers are bright lights. You might be intended for war, but you aren’t dark in the least. Only truly ugly desperation would drive the Jedi to misuse you as intended.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, hunching slightly as he thought. “I don’t know what this means. Dooku wasn’t the master of the zabrak I killed on Naboo. He claims the Sith Lord has influence in the upper echelons of the Senate. Palpatine is being goaded by extremists into signing a military creation act despite the fact the Republic hasn’t required anything larger than the Judicial Navy since the time of the Mandalorian Wars.” One thing was perfectly clear. Obi-Wan had to secure these boys somehow before the Senate, and therefore the Jedi High Council, could be manipulated into enslaving them as the contract laid out.

First, they needed to handle the situation with Priest. As long as he was a threat, there would be no trustworthy witnesses to… Whatever Obi-Wan was going to do. A group of Old Clan Mandalorian commandos might be considered brutes in the Republic, but they were brutes who’s testimony had legal weight. The Kaminoans were obviously untrustworthy and cloning was severely restricted in Republic space. Full body clones might not even count as sentients if the wrong senator was making the decision. Whatever Obi-Wan did to make sure the clones status as sentient beings, endowed by Republic law with all the rights of that status, needed to be verifiable even if Obi-Wan himself was unable to do it.

Fett might be intractable, but Alpha-17 had said one of the former instructors had adopted some clones. He might be more sympathetic to Obi-Wan’s intentions. “Skirata, he’s the one who adopted the… Nulls? The ones that aren’t Boba?” Remembering the holocomm Boba had made Fett’s doctor friend he verified, “Kal Skirata?”

“Yes, Kal Skirata adopted the six official N-series clones.” Alpha-17 raised an eyebrow. “He’s no less a bastard than Fett if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“He can be talking rancor with a really good holoskin as long as he’s a Mandalorian citizen.” Obi-Wan raised a droll eyebrow of his own. “He’s not right? That might be a  _ bit _ hard to explain to the Senate.”

Alpha-17 smirked. “No. Humanoid male, mostly human.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Then this should be simple.” Or it would be once Obi-Wan came up with a viable option for ensuring Republic law had to treat the clones as people. Unfortunately, Kamino didn’t have access to the holonet Obi-Wan would use so Obi-Wan would be relying on his memory of Republic and Mandalorian law. Luckily, he’d always had a good memory and a knack for details. “Alpha, I am sorry for what’s been done to you and your brothers in the name of the Jedi Order.”

“Kriff your sorry.” Alpha-17 dropped his arms to the side. “Sorry won’t fix kark. Just do better for my brothers, Kenobi.”

“I will.” Obi-Wan gave Alpha-17 a formal bow from a student to their teacher. “Thank you for your guidance.”

“I didn’t do anything except follow orders and protocol,” Alpha-17 reminded him. “Times almost up, sir. You need to be out of sight.” He lifted up his helmet and spoke into it. “Kote, the new officer is done here. Take care of it.”

Kote returned through the door he’d left from. He herded Obi-Wan back into the maintenance turbolift and keyed in the floor. The wall slid shut, and they were back in the dim, yellow dark so common in the maintenance corridors. As they descended, Kote asked, “Did Alpha answer your questions, sir?”

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. “The important ones, yes.”

“Okay then,” Kote said doubtfully though he put forth a good effort to conceal the tone.


End file.
